


undeserving of a title

by weatherflonium



Category: Senki Zesshou Symphogear
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Deliberate Badfic, I Blame 4chan, M/M, Madness, The Cringe Rises, trollfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatherflonium/pseuds/weatherflonium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning transfer student Shinji just wants to take his dashing childhood friend Genjuro for a night on the town, but must contend with the devious and jealous Ver. Fujitaka just wants it to be over.</p><p>Trollfic, answering a "prompt" from /m/ after someone mentioned my /u/ stuff there. I hope you're happy, everyone involved. Especially you, random noun generator, you beautiful bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	undeserving of a title

It was Shinji Ogawa's first day back at Section 2 High School, after two years overseas. His heart was aflutter with the thought of re-uniting with his handsome childhood friend, Genjuro Kazanari, captain of the sports, two-time homecoming king, and object of Ogawa's passionate yet secret affection. He had been content to live as friends with Genjuro once, but after two years apart? No. Today, he would tell him how he feels.

He ducked his head into the sports locker room, where he saw two other students: Sakuya Fujitaka, one of Genjuro's teammates and an old friend of Ogawa's, and John Wayne Vercingetorix, “Ver” to everyone who wanted to finish saying his name before the next class. Ver's passionate advances towards Genjuro were a well-known source of rumour at the school, and Ogawa had worried most about during his absence. The white-haired student had an unusual sort of charisma about him. “Is Genjuro here? I want to talk to him about... things.”

“You salty motherfucker! You're trying to steal him from me!” shouted Ver, removing his sweatervest to reveal a chest covered in rippling abs. “I challenge you to a song duel!” Ver drew a sequin-studded antique banjo from his pocket and threw it at Ogawa's feet, where it landed with a resounding _clang_.

“What kind of banjo makes a clanging sound on carpet?” Sakuya Fujitaka, one of Ogawa and Genjuro's friends and the sports manager, asked in from across the room.

“Forget it, Fujitaka, you're out of your element.” Ogawa said, taking a step towards Ver and bending down to pick up the banjo in one smooth, graceful motion. “I accept. When and where?” Ogawa took another step, brandishing the banjo like the finest piece of Liberace's samurai sword collection. His eyes burned with passion as he strode furiously towards Ver. As a look of worry darted across Ver's features, Ogawa halted and turned on the spot. As soon as he finished the motion, he snapped his head to glare directly at Ver, and used his banjo-free hand to tear off his tightly-fitted uniform shirt, sending three faux-pearl buttons arcing into the air and revealing his brilliantly-toned pectorals.

“Why are you taking your clothes off?”

“Shut the fuck up, Fujitaka.” Ver snapped. “Atop the bleachers at dusk, ninja boy. You can keep the banjo.” He turned to walk away, shooting occasional glares back at Ogawa over his shoulder as he strutted towards the gym door.

Ogawa kept his furious stare angled right at Ver as he left, and pointed the tip of the banjo towards him. “I just might.”

* * *

T he sun hung low over the school's sports field as Ogawa strode towards the bleachers. Ver, a crazed look on his face, already stood atop one set of bleachers, surrounded by an elaborate sound system. Shinji looked to the sequined banjo in his hand and took a deep breath, climbing the opposite bleachers.

“Hello, Section 2 High!” came a voice from the sports field's commentary booth. In the booth sat a woman with long, dark hair and a pair of pink half-rim glasses. “Ryoko Sakurai here, doing your play-by-play analysis for tonight's duel!” The sound of canned applause echoed over the empty grounds. “And here for colour commentary: our very own Sakuya Fujitaka!”

“I don't even know what's going on anymore.” came Fujitaka's dejected voice.

“He's a bit like a child who wanders into the middle of a movie and wants to know...”

“Yeah, Ryoko, what's your point?”

“Anyway!” Ryoko shouted, “The challenger sings first!”

Ver laughed, his voice reverberating out from his speakers. He reached down and picked up a beautiful ivory keytar, looping up and down the keys once before immediately launching into a fast-paced, technical instrumental solo. A burst of flares lit off behind him as he intensified his jam, the booming of the speakers causing the bleachers to rock back and forth. Then, with a cocky smirk, he stomped onto a pedal on the top speaker.

A  loud, screeching sound echoed across the field as Ver's song descended  from melody  into the  darkest depths of dubstep.  “No... that's impossible! He's- he's  _dropped the bass_ ! I can't defeat him like this!”  Ogawa shouted, despondent.

“Shinji!” A booming, deep voice echoed through the stands; in the centre of the sports field stood Genjuro himself, his magnificent mane of red hair blowing furiously in the breeze. He reached into his vest and drew out a long, curved object. “This is for you!” He hurled the object to the top of the bleachers, and Ogawa nimbly reached to pluck it from the sky. As he pulled it down, he saw what it was: a beautifully-decorated samurai sword with a single, fine horsehair tied from the tip to the hilt. Ogawa smiled and reached for the glittering banjo.

“It can't be... the samurai banjo violin technique?!” Ver's jaw dropped far enough to throw him off-balance. “Are you mad? You'll die!”

“...okay, how?” Fujitaka asked as he reached for the flask near Ryoko's microphone.

Ryoko shrugged and swatted the flask out of Fujitaka's reach, taking a deep draught. “I'm afraid you don't have the physics background for me to explain the specifics... but basically, it's a technique that involves skimming the edge of the critical jam threshold.”

“Enough talk!” Ver shouted to the booth. “Well, if you're going to burn yourself up to defeat me, I won't stop you!” Ver cackled as he danced a jig on the spot.

“No... I'm not going to burn. Not tonight.” Ogawa took a deep breath and ran the outer edge of the sword down the banjo's strings, producing a crisp, clear note. “Tonight... I'm gonna have myself a real good time.” With a flick of his wrist, the banjo jumped from his hand to a perch on his shoulder, against the horsehair on the sword.

The banjo and sword danced across the evening sky, a perfect rhythm in both sight and sound. The strikes of the sword's pommel against the banjo set the beat, the whooshing of its blade through the air the perfect bass. All this was a mere backdrop, though, to the melodious sounds of the horsehair against the banjo strings, and Ogawa's crisp, sophisticated vocals. By the time he reached the first chorus of  _Don't Stop Me Now_ , the air around him was blazing with St. Elmo's Fire, casting an otherworldly light on the proceedings.

“Sakurai! We have to shut it down!” Fujitaka lunged for the master switch. “I have no idea what's going on, but it's clearly dangerous!”

Ryoko  grabbed Fujitaka's wrist . “No. This is something he has to do,” she said, scribbling furiously in her notebook  and pulling several instruments from her satchel, “for science. And music theory. And future tenure-track positions.”

As Ogawa continued through the song, the lights behind him intensified; soon, the entire bleachers were spewing green sparks into the sky. The light focused in the air above Ogawa, taking the vague shape of a bare-chested man with a magnificent mustache. A faint, angelic voice echoed in harmony with Ogawa's for the rest of the song; as the singing continued, Ver's face grew increasingly distraught. As the song finally slowed, Ver slumped. “I'm... utterly defeated.”

When the last note echoed forth from the banjo, the lights vanished as one, the glowing musical titan fading contentedly into the sky. Ogawa s

Ogawa  stared up at his saviour, an adoring look on his face. “Genjuro.”

“Shinji.” Genjuro smiled back. “You did this for me?”

“Yes... yes, I did.” Ogawa sighed. “I love you. I never really knew until I left, until we were apart.” Shinji closed his eyes. “I know you probably just think of me as a friend, but please... would you... would you... go to the kielbasa place on 19th with me next Friday?”

“Absolutely.” Genjuro smiled, kissing Ogawa deeply. “I fucking love kielbasa.”

* * *

Fujitaka awoke with a cold sweat. _Well,_ he thought,  _I'm going to give Dr. Sakurai that recipe book back._

**Author's Note:**

> Friends don't let friends play badfic chicken with anon, but I never listen to my friends.  
> ...Christ, I can't believe I wrote this sober.
> 
> /u/ anon who forwarded my mention of requests to /sgg/, you can blame yourself for this. If I want to talk about yuri (I often do) it'll be done on /u/; /m/ is for talking about giant robots, hot blood, rocket punches, and various other things which are not anime lesbians.
> 
> Now if you'll excuse me, I to take the knowledge that I have written a high-school AU fic and scrape it from my brain with steel wool.


End file.
